Eyes

by Joanne Fluke

  “Thanks, Mary Ellen.” Dr. Varney smiled at her and then turned to Neil. “Mary Ellen’s my assistant. She wasn’t scheduled to work today, but she came in as a favor to me.”

  Jill held her breath. Was Neil going to complain that it was a rip-off, an excuse for the hospital to bill their insurance company for Mary Ellen’s overtime? But her husband just smiled that same nice smile.

  “Thank you, Mary Ellen.” Neil sounded very grateful. “I really appreciate it.”

  The nurse nodded. “No problem. Now don’t worry, Mr. Bradley. I’ve been assisting Dr. Varney for almost ten years, and we haven’t lost a patient yet.”

  Neil chuckled. “That’s good enough for me. I’m all yours, Mary Ellen. And please call me Neil. That way I’ll feel I know you.”

  Jill stared at her husband. He sounded gracious and utterly charming, the way he’d been when she’d first met him. People who met Neil casually, often told her how lucky she was to be married to him. They felt they knew him, but they only knew the witty, amiable professor. Jill knew Neil’s dark side, his fits of rage, his biting sarcasm, and his totally demanding nature.

  “Jill?” Dr. Varney turned to her. “Could you pull the drapes while Mary Ellen removes Neil’s bandages?”

  “Of course.” Jill hurried to the window. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the drapes were lined with a material that completely blocked out the daylight.

  “Why don’t you sit down in that chair by the wall switch?” Dr. Varney pointed to a chair near the wall. “We’ll leave the lights on until the final gauze strip. I’ll tell you when to turn them off.”

  Jill sat down in the chair he’d indicated and tried to relax. She was glad Dr. Varney hadn’t suggested she sit by the bed. If she’d held Neil’s hand, she might have somehow conveyed the panic she was feeling.

  It took several minutes for the nurse to remove the layers of bandages. When there was only one strip of gauze remaining, Dr. Varney flicked on his light and motioned to Jill. “All right. Turn off the lights.”

  Jill reached up with fingers that trembled and flicked the wall switch. It took her eyes several seconds to adjust to the darkness, and when they did, she saw Dr. Varney’s light illuminating the last gauze strip.

  “Keep your eyelids closed, Neil.” Dr. Varney removed the last strip. “Now, with your eyes closed, I want you to tell me if you perceive any slight indication of light.”

  Jill held her breath as the doctor moved his light over Neil’s eyelids, back and forth, from his right eye to his left. This was the moment they’d been waiting for. Would Neil be able to see again?

  “It’s . . . red. I can see a red glow, and it’s moving back and forth.”

  “That’s my light.” Dr. Varney’s voice was loud in the stillness of the room. “Keep your eyes closed, Neil. Mary Ellen’s going to cover one of your eyelids with a patch and then I’ll use my light, again. I want you to tell me if you still see that red glow.”

  Mary Ellen covered Neil’s left eye with a patch of cloth. Dr. Varney moved his light in the same pattern, from the right eye to the left, and then back again.

  “Yes. I can see it.” Neil’s voice was shaking. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “That’s very good. Now keep your eyes closed while Mary Ellen moves the patch to your right eye. We’re going to do the same thing, in reverse.”

  This time Neil laughed out loud. “I see it! You’re moving it in a circle.”

  “Very good. Now, keep your eyes closed and concentrate. Sometimes we want things so badly, our minds play tricks on our bodies. We have to make sure that’s not happening in your case, and that’s why I’m going to run a control. Do you know what that is?”

  Jill winced. Of course Neil knew what a control was! Every student who’d ever taken freshman psychology knew about experiments and control groups. Dr. Varney was talking down to Neil, and Neil despised condescending people. She just hoped that her husband would restrain himself and not say something sarcastic.

  “I think I know.” Neil’s voice was even and reasonable. “You’re running a blind test, but I can understand why you didn’t want to use that term.”

  Dr. Varney chuckled. “You’re absolutely right. Mary Ellen will put a patch over both of your eyes. One patch will have a clear lens which will let in the light. The other lens will be opaque. Since the patches feel exactly the same, you won’t be able to tell which of them contains the clear lens. As soon as Mary Ellen gets them in place, I want you to tell me which eye perceives the red glow.”

  Jill had been relatively calm, but now her hands began to tremble. This was the test that would tell them if Neil’s sight had been restored. She shut her own eyes, almost afraid to watch as Dr. Varney conducted the test. She heard the doctor’s questions and Neil’s answers, and then the test was over.

  “Congratulations, Neil.” Dr. Varney patted him on the shoulder. “We have every indication that the transplant was a success. Now keep your eyes closed while Mary Ellen puts on a fresh bandage. If you promise not to make any sudden head movements, we’ll only use the restraint at night.”

  “I promise. Thanks, Doc!”

  Neil sounded sincerely grateful, and a phrase from “Amazing Grace” floated through Jill’s mind. “I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind, but now I see.” Neil had been lost in a dark world and now he was found. He’d almost been blind, but now he would be able to see again. Was it conceivable that Neil’s terrible selfishness and his mood swings had been discarded with the bandages that had covered his eyes? Did she dare to hope that her husband was a changed man?

  As soon as Mary Ellen had taped the first pad of gauze in place, Dr. Varney walked over to flick on the lights. Then he went back to the bed and patted Neil’s shoulder. “Do you have any questions, Neil?”

  “Just one.” Neil grinned. “Everyone’s been great, but when can I get out of here? I want to go home and have a big slice of Jill’s pot roast.”

  Dr. Varney laughed. “I can understand that. I eat in the cafeteria occasionally, and I know hospital food isn’t exactly gourmet fare. I want to keep you for three more nights, just to be on the safe side. If everything’s normal, I’ll release you on Wednesday, right after I’ve made my rounds.”

  “Okay.” Neil started to nod, but he caught himself. “No sudden head movements, right?”

  “That’s right. I’ve got to run, Neil. I’ve got surgery in an hour.”

  Since Mary Ellen was still bandaging her husband, Jill stepped out into the hall with Dr. Varney. “What time are your rounds on Wednesday, Dr. Varney?”

  “Between three and four. Is that a problem for you?”

  “I don’t think so. I have to be in court at ten, but we should be through by three at the latest.”

  “I’d forgotten you were a lawyer.” Dr. Varney frowned slightly. “Since you work, we’ll have to discuss some arrangements for Neil. Your insurance provides a day nurse for the first two weeks, but I think you should start looking for someone after that.”

  “But . . . Neil will be able to see by then, won’t he?”

  “Not well enough.” Dr. Varney looked very serious. “Your husband will be able to distinguish between dark and light, but I had to do considerable muscle repair. Eye muscles can be retrained. That won’t be a problem. But it’s only fair to tell you that it’ll take time.”

  Jill nodded. “How much time?”

  “It depends on the individual. During the first month, I’ll want Neil to come in three times a week for therapy. Once he learns the exercises, he’ll be able to do them at home, but he’ll experience episodes of double vision for at least six months.”

  “I see.” Jill tried not to frown. Neil’s recovery would be a lot slower than either of them had anticipated. “How about an eye patch? Would that help to correct the double vision?”

  “Absolutely. But he has to remember to switch it every four hours. We don’t want one set of eye muscles to become lazy, while the other set grows stro
nger.”

  “That’s it?” Jill’s relief was short-lived when the doctor shook his head.

  “Do you remember our discussion on tunnel vision?”

  “Of course.” Jill nodded. “Right before the operation Neil could only see in an arc of twenty degrees. You told us that between one-sixty and one-seventy degrees was normal.”

  “That’s right. For all practical purposes, Neil’s back to square one. I wouldn’t expect any big changes right away. In time the arc will widen, but it could take a year before his peripheral vision is fully restored.”

  Jill began to frown. “Neil’s not going to be happy about that!”

  “I guessed as much. I have patients who manage to cope with this type of visual difficulty, but to be quite frank . . . I don’t think your husband is one of them.”

  Jill’s eyes widened. Even though Neil had been perfectly charming, he hadn’t fooled Dr. Varney.

  “And since we’re speaking frankly, I don’t think Neil will get along well while you’re at work.”

  “But I can’t take time off right now.” Jill’s frown deepened. “Should I hire a nurse for him?”

  “You don’t need a nurse. A housekeeper or a companion would do just fine. All she has to do is fix his meals, drive him in for therapy, and make sure he changes his eye patch. The hospital has a list of recommended names if you’d like them.”

  “I would, thank you.” Jill gave a sigh of relief. She didn’t know the first thing about hiring a companion or a housekeeper, and she didn’t have time to run an ad in the paper and interview applicants.

  “Good luck.” Dr. Varney reached out to shake her hand. “Just stop at the desk on your way out and ask for the list. And if you don’t mind a word of advice . . . you may go through several candidates before you find exactly the right person.”

  Jill was amused as she turned to go back into Neil’s room. Dr. Varney certainly had Neil pegged! But then a new worry surfaced in her mind. She had to come up with some incredibly tactful way to tell Neil that he needed a companion. He hated having people come into their home. He resented the intrusion so much, he’d even forced her to give up the weekly cleaning service. Jill knew if she failed to find exactly the right words to explain the situation to Neil, he’d reject the idea entirely. He might even get so angry, he’d demand that she give up her job and stay home as his personal slave!

  Of course, she wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t about to give up her career. She just hoped the hospital would give her a very long list of names. If Neil’s recovery was as slow and as difficult as Dr. Varney had implied, his companion would need the patience of a saint to cope with him.

  CHAPTER 7

  “I’m really happy for you, Jill. I’ll pick you up for lunch tomorrow and we’ll celebrate with a couple of greasy hamburgers.” Doug Lake hung up the phone, a smile on his face. It always gave him a lift to hear Jill’s voice, and he was glad that her husband was going to be all right. Jill was . . . well . . . Jill was Jill. It was difficult for him to think of words to describe her, so he let his mind roam through all the best experiences in his life. Jill was like a cool mountain breeze on a muggy Texas afternoon, a deep swallow of icy well water at the end of a dusty trail, a crackling fire on a bitter winter night, a marshmallow toasted perfectly over a campfire, the outside all golden and crusty and the inside packed chock-full of melted sweetness.

  Comparing Jill to a marshmallow made Doug grin. Marshmallows were fluffy, airy little things, and there was nothing fluffy or airy about Jill. She had substance. Furthermore she could be as tough as a linebacker with the Dallas Cowboys. He’d seen her tackle a couple of lying witnesses in court; she’d known exactly how to break them down. But even though Jill was tough, there was nothing remotely masculine about her. She was all woman, and that was what made her so appealing.

  As he sat down at the table to eat his microwave dinner, Doug remembered the first time he’d met Jill. He’d been a rookie cop, outraged that someone had thrown a bottle at Tessie, the best horse in the entire police stable. Jill had been a pretty young prosecutor, an incredibly leggy blonde with straight, swinging hair and a figure that suggested she was no stranger to long-distance running. The first question she’d asked was whether Tessie was all right. When he’d told her Tessie’s cut wasn’t deep and it would heal just fine, her blue eyes had turned darker, the color of cobalt, and as hard and steely as the barrel of his service revolver. Then she’d said, “Good. Now let’s make sure we really nail this guy!”

  They’d nailed him, but not in the way Doug had expected. Since he hadn’t been on his horse when the bottle had been thrown, the man had faced only a drunk and disorderly charge and an attempt to destroy city property. But when Jill had questioned him, Doug had admitted that he’d reached out to try to deflect the bottle and had received a small cut on his thumb.

  Jill had then gone after the perp with both barrels blazing, and the defendant had been convicted of not two, but three offenses. She’d nailed him on drunk and disorderly, willful destruction of city property, and assault on a police officer, a much more serious charge.

  When they’d left the courtroom, Jill had asked him to take her to the police stable. She’d fed Tessie an apple and then taken Tessie’s picture. The next time he’d entered Jill’s office, he’d seen Tessie’s picture on the wall behind her desk, complete with a label on the frame that named the horse as Jill’s first client.

  Doug wished he hadn’t been involved with someone at the time. If he’d been free, he would have asked Jill for a date. As it turned out, he’d been a fool. Less than a year later, the woman he’d been dating had decided she wasn’t cut out to be a cop’s wife. She’d married an accountant with a nine to five schedule, and the last Doug had heard, they had a little house in Elk River with a dog and two kids.

  When he had finally worked up the nerve to call Jill’s office, her secretary had told him she’d flown to Florida to meet her fiancé’s brother. Doug had thanked the woman politely, but he’d put his fist through the pantry wall right after he’d hung up the phone. He’d waited too long—he’d blown it. Perfect women like Jill didn’t stay single forever. Why hadn’t he had the brains to realize she was the only one he’d ever really wanted to marry?

  Jill had sent him a wedding invitation, but Doug hadn’t had the heart to go. He’d told her he had to work, and he’d sent something that the clerk at Dayton’s Department Store had recommended. He’d left instructions to wrap the silver ice bucket in wedding paper, and it had been delivered to Jill’s family’s home, where the reception had been held.

  Doug was sure Jill didn’t know how he felt about her. He’d been very careful to keep their relationship friendly and professional. She was his friend, but other, deeper feelings lurked just beneath the surface, like a granddaddy catfish that hid under the mirrored face of a lake, poised and ready to leap up from the depths at precisely the right moment.

  Jill rarely talked about her husband. Doug had been surprised when he’d learned that Neil had written a book. He’d picked it up at a discount bookstore and had read it on his vacation. It had been a well-written mystery with a fairly interesting plot, but it hadn’t impressed Doug all that much. The lead character was a police detective, but it was obvious that Jill’s husband didn’t know anything about real police work. If Doug had tried any of the stunts Neil’s detective pulled in the book, he would have been up before the disciplinary review board before he’d had time to fill out the paperwork.

  So why hadn’t Jill caught the obvious errors in her husband’s book when she worked with police detectives every day? Doug hadn’t wanted to ask her, but one day she’d volunteered the information. Neil had worked alone, sequestered in his office with his computer and his printer. He hadn’t wanted Jill to read his book until it was published.

  At the time, Doug had wondered what kind of marriage they had. If he wrote a book, he’d want his wife to be the first to read it. It would be something they could share, and he’
d certainly value his wife’s advice. As far as Doug was concerned, Neil had shot himself in the foot. If he’d asked for Jill’s advice, his police detective would have been more believable.

  Although there was still some food on his tray, Doug dumped the remainder down the garbage disposal. He hated microwave dinners. The vegetables were mushy, the potatoes were watery, and the meat was so tasteless he felt like retrieving the box from the trash to find out what he’d eaten. But popping a frozen dinner in the microwave was efficient. It seemed like a waste of time to cook from scratch for himself.

  Doug had learned how to cook from his grandmother. There were some things he prepared very well, like Tex-Mex tamales that would make your eyes water, fried chicken that was crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside, and mouthwatering barbecued ribs on the grill. Doug enjoyed cooking if he had a guest, but that didn’t happen very often. He could count the guests who’d come for dinner on the fingers of one hand.

  The night stretched out before him, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. There was nothing on television that interested him. There were no movies he wanted to rent. He was always welcome at the cop bar near the precinct, but he didn’t feel like lifting a brew with burned-out colleagues who had no life beyond the force. He’d been there, done that, and it was boring, listening to the same old stories again and again. The older guys talked about the big cases they’d had, the cases nobody else had been able to solve. They were desperate to find some pleasure in recalling a time when they were sharp and smart and useful.

  The younger guys were even more pathetic, delaying that moment when they’d have to go home to an empty apartment or a marriage that was heading for the rocks. It took a special type of woman to marry a cop, to live with the fear and uncertainty that went with the job. The wives never knew if their husbands would come home injured, or come home at all. It was almost like being a single parent; they could never count on that romantic anniversary dinner or the baby’s first birthday party. Telephones and pagers became their enemies. Because nothing took precedence over work, the wives had to take on the responsibilities of both mother and father; it wasn’t surprising so many of them bailed out.